Rhythm of a heart
by hearts-ablaze
Summary: James agreed to meet once more at where it all started, but he never agreed to play along. (Post breakup AU)
The space between them on the bench feels like a chasm, and he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch her cheek, to make sure she is really there. Only he doesn't. She won't meet his stare; her eyes are trained to the box in her lap, like she is trying to remember the contents.

James realises he isn't willing to drag this out. He could sit there all day and look at the curve of her jaw, take in the way her eyes change as they lose the light, the way that the rust coloured sky seemed to make her skin glow, but what would he achieve? He will only hurt himself more; he will only put off the inevitable.

He pushes the box in his hands across the bench towards her sharply, a movement that seemed to startle her as the box scrapes the wood. She nods, like he's reminded her of why they're here. She places the box in her hands down next to him, and pulls his towards her by looping her fingertips over the edge. She picks the first item off the top, holding it in both hands, before placing it down beside her in acceptance. She does this with all of the contents, a number of her shirts, books, a toothbrush, her sketchpad, paints and brushes, and various pieces of jewellery. Soon enough, there's only one thing left in the box. James doesn't feel any lighter for it; he thought it would be a weight off, giving her the things that reminded him of her, all of her possessions that seemed to litter his flat. He feels sick. The air feels viscous in his lungs, and every second she looks at the jersey is like a needle to his heart.

 _Take it,_ James pleads silently, _if you take it, then there might still be a chance for us._

Her hand hovers over it, slender fingers dragging across the material, soft and course beneath her fingertips all at once. And it all comes flooding back; the memories of a Friday night in his dorm, their mates calling from the pub, begging them to come out for one drink, _just one drink_ , they had pleaded. James and Lily had gotten caught in a storm after class, and James had given her the jersey while her clothes dried by the heater. Their mates had kept calling, so she had turned her phone to silent, and placed it beneath the cushion, not wishing to ever leave his dorm. His hands found the hem of the jersey, pulling her into his lap. He had told her with a devious grin, "I'm conflicted."

"Why?" She'd asked, her hands dragging through his hair.

He had let out a small noise that made Lily squirm. His lips on the base of her throat, she had arched her back so they were chest to chest.

"I never want you to take my jersey off, and yet I want to tear it off of you."

She whispered something into his ear that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, "Why don't we leave it on?"

So he did.

They spent the night tangled in James' sheets, the storm rolling outside, lightning cracking. The music from the pub down the street had been so loud that they could hear the dull bass thudding through the walls. On second thought, Lily wonders if it's just her heart against her ribs.

Only now in the park, their unspoken words are louder than any storm. _'It's yours'_ her eyes tell him. He shakes his head and she knows what he is telling her, _'It always belonged to you.'_ Her fingers close around the material and she's taking it. He's so relieved that he feels like he can finally breathe again, like the air finally lets go of his lungs. And all at once he remembers why they're here, and he grabs the box bitterly, standing up.

She's startled when she asks, "Aren't you going to look inside?"

"No."

"Don't you want to know that everything is in there?"

"Lily, I don't care about the box. I don't care about the shit I left at your flat. Have it all, keep it all, throw it all out, I don't care." His hands are shaking, and he can't help but feel relieved that at least his voice isn't.

"James-"

"You wanted this. You wanted all of it, Lily." He doesn't mean the box. He means the breakup. He means the meeting up in the park, at the spot that he'd first kissed her, the spot that had meant absolutely everything to him and clearly nothing to her. She's thrown it back in his face, and he will never be able to think of this bench with anything but bitter resentment now. "I never asked for any of it, so don't think you can force me to participate. I brought you your things, why do you have to keep torturing me?"

She flinches, like his words have struck a nerve, "What do you want me to say, James?"

"I want a fucking answer. I want you to tell me why."

"I _did_ tell you."

"You told me _lies_ ," His hands are shaking, his grip on the box tightening. It's his turn to avoid her eyes. He knows what he would see if he did, the look in her eyes that would drown him and saved him, all at one. The kindness in her face that would break his heart all over again, the kindness that grew to pity the longer you looked. "You think I can't tell your truths from your lies, Lily? You think I know you so poorly?"

James knew her, better than she knew herself, better than she ever let anyone know her. He knew her breaths beside him, her footsteps on his floorboards, and her sobs from her laughs. He knew when she trembled, if it was from fear or from the chill of the air. He knew the rhythm of her heart, because it was the same as his own. Lily Evans feared little, but she had been terrified of having someone know her so completely, and yet she had never felt as complete as she did with James' hand in hers, like she could take on the whole world as long as he was by her side. She says nothing now. She's piling her things back into the box. Her bottom lip shakes dangerously. She bites it, trying to stop it from betraying her, only he keeps talking and she isn't sure how much longer she can last.

"I understood when you wanted space. I understood when we rowed. I even understood when you lost him," He's talking about Severus, she realises, "When he broke your heart, I wasn't jealous that you had loved him in a way you would never love me, I was broken with you. I understood what I could, Lily. Everything I didn't, I tried my fucking best to give you space, tried my best to understand."

"In a way I would never love you?" She echoes, her eyes blazing as she finally meets his gaze, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Would you have ever said the things you said to me, to him?" He isn't willing to let it go, nor is he willing to forget. People in the park are looking. They're watching the row, she's sure of it. A tinge of pink rises in her cheeks, and she wishes that the ground would open and swallow her whole.

"It was different, with Severus. I loved him but not like how I love you."

The word is from her mouth before her brain can register it, and her eyes are widening in the same was his do. She fucked the tenses, she knows it and by the look on his face, he knows it too.

His voice is low as he says, "Love."

"Loved," She amends quickly; hugging the box into her chest like it will stop her heart from leaping out of her chest at the way he's looking at her. James shakes his head, and he's smiling. _If there is a God_ , she thinks, _they'll give me strength to turn around and walk away from him._

"Tell me the truth, that's all I ask," His voice is low and he's dropped his box to the ground. His hand is on the back of the bench behind her, his eyes are level with hers, "When you said that you didn't love me any more, what were you trying to do?"

"Save you a lifetime of sneers and whispers." She finally admits truthfully. He's confused now, only she continues before he can ask anything more of her, "You're so gentle that you don't even realise it, do you? You never heard them when we walked into a room. Your parent's parties, your work events, all of them talk about me like I don't belong. And maybe they're right, but you don't deserve to have them make a mockery of you at my expense. I've read enough books to know what their stares mean," She places a small hand against his chest and she can feel his heart thudding beneath her palm, "Good breeding shouldn't mix with my kind, with _Cokeworth._ "

"Fuck you," He snaps suddenly, his eyes are blazing, "Fuck you for thinking I care about that."

She's taken aback. He's never said that to her before, and she's more aware now than ever of her hand on his chest. She yanks it back, but his fingers are on her jaw and he's tilting her head so she's looking at him.

"You've got two options, Lily," He whispers to her, the warmth of the hazel eyes fills every corner of her body and she's aware of how the rest of the world fades around when he's looking at her so intensely, his fingers burning her skin like a white hot poker. "First, you tell me once more that you don't love me. You look me in the eyes and you promise me that you have never lied to me, and that when you tell me that you don't love me, you mean it. Tell me that and I'll take the box, and you'll never hear from me again."

"And the second?" Her voice is hoarse, as though she hasn't spoken in years.

His eyes search hers, and finally he says, "Kiss me."

"What happens if I kiss you?"

"I take you home. We'll get takeaway, sit on my couch and you'll tell me everything. We'll put your toothbrush back in the bathroom and your sketchpad back on the window seat. Your books will go back on the shelf, and we'll watch whatever you want on the telly. Then," His eyes aren't burning hers any more, but they never left her face. He was searching for any hint that this was what she wanted, any remaining hope that she hadn't checked out completely. "Then I'll spend the rest of my life showing you that I don't give a bloody damn about what anyone else thinks but you."

There is a long moment before either of them speaks, before either of them moves. It's James who breaks the silence, who bursts the bubble where she has chosen neither option yet, where she has neither broken his heart again nor mended it, "So what'll it be, Evans?" then her hand is on his shirt, pulling him down, or pulling her up, he isn't quiet sure but soon enough it doesn't matter because her lips are on his like they're home. Her cheeks are wet against his, but her shoulders don't shake so he knows she's okay. James' hands find her waist and he's holding on for dear life, like she'll vanish if he lets go.

She lets go of his shirt, but he doesn't let go of her waist. Their breaths are synchronised and James was sure if he listened close enough their hearts would be paced the same. "So option two?" He asks softly, his fingers digging into her waist.

"Take me home, James."


End file.
